Release the Demons
by Serpent Roi
Summary: When Butch finally lets his rage get hold of him he comes to, finding out that he has killed an innocent. Immediately he runs, the one thing he promised never to do, through running he leaves everything behind, including himself. After a few days he finds himself in Big Town trying to reclaim and amend for what he has done and learn at little bit about himself.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

How long had this been coming, this battle that coursed deep inside him? It was the one that reared its ugly head when someone pushed him too far, when words that he deemed insulting where thrown at him and threats were not taken lightly anymore. When the match had been struck and the fuse lit, it tapped the cord setting off a chain of events that were out of his control. It was only a matter of time before the demons would refuse to stay caged inside, there constant pushing and shoving broke there hold, the clawing and grating could no longer be tamed. They would finally have their chance to unleash their true rage, show everyone what the he was really capable of. So when that time finally came all the anger, pain and hurt that had been locked up for 20 years just exploded into a dizzying fit of rage.

Everything happened so quickly, so sudden that when the fuse lit everything went black, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his head, thudding viciously as the air around him muffled, darkening, disorientated. There was nothing, his vision wouldn't focus on his surroundings, his body weightless as he felt it hurtle towards something solid, the rush of air against his skin, mumbled cries tried to find their way to his ears but determination of his will to unleash the monster cradled away the beckoning screams. It was only till his heard the stern and familiar voice booming through the thick air that he finally came back to his senses. By then it was far too late.

His whole body tensed, hands flexed round something that was comfortable to him, it clasped easily within his palm, a part of him, something that moved in sync with him. The heaving in his chest was heavy and rapid, an almost panicked motion to the rise and fall of his chest. Slowly his vision came into focus eyes darting at the crowd that had gathered round, some shouting, demanding, crying. He shot them a puzzled frown as he came to realise that the cries where aimed to him, the threats and shouts rose, tearing at his senses trying to piece together what was going on. Trailing his eyes round them as the semi circled round something, his sight fell to where the majority of the crowd where watching. To the bloodied body which was slumped against the cold, harsh metal of the ship, awkwardly twisted into a shape that no human should be able to make. His eyes wide, frenzied, he finally let them drift down to the clenched hand. Blood, it was everywhere. His jacket splattered with the deep liquid, dripping from his hand down to the tip if the weapon. Toothpick, it used to feel so comfortable and secure, but now it was foreign. The one thing that linked to a part of him that he knew nothing about, was now part of him he didn't want to be.

He could hear the gurgled gasps of air, choking on thick blood the air ways desperate to try and grasp at the ait around him, failing slowly in its attempt. As Preston cradled his head he curled his fingers round the kids hand which had clutched the wound in a feeble effort to trying and stop the bleeding. Concerned eyes looked past him, shaking his head softly he let it fall back to the boy adjust his form so the disjointed limbs appeared now more comfortable. What did he mean no? There was no chance, he couldn't have? He fought but he never killed anyone, not in the Rudder. The firm hold on his shoulder grasped on to leather, tugged at him gently but nothing was happening. His body refused to move, forcing him to watch the scene in front of him, making him see the damage that he'd done. He wasn't doing this again. He wasn't staying to watch someone else die from his hand.

That voice again, concerning and soft, coaxing him away from the scene. Uttering his name, one he heard before many times, the same voice but a tone he had not heard before, laced with uncertainty, he didn't know what to do. No, his body wanted him to stay; it demanded him to see what he'd done. To put the pieces together and realise that the day he knew would come, had done exactly that. That one day all that mixture of emotions would spew forth at the complete wrong time, he just thought that damage would have been to himself not someone else.

Finally he felt the release, everything eased up. But time slowed, letting him engrave every single moment in vivid detail. Ted's breathes rasping, the bubbling of blood in the back of his throat as he gargled on the thick substance. The over powering smell of blood hung around him, choking, heavy it drowned all his senses till it fell upon his tongue, the taste of metal tinged his lips and throat not allowing him any escape. Screaming and shouting from the crowd ripped through his head, spiking painful words of hurt in his brain. Trinnie's wails ricochet off the walls piercing the air around him, mumbles of disappointment fell on deaf ears as he tried to block out the onslaught of abuse that was thrown his way. Harkness's words in his ear, they were soothing, telling him to leave, that it wasn't safe. The occasional booming erupted at the crowd trying to get them to remain calm but at the same time putting all his effort into getting Butch to move away from the wreckage. But none of it audible, it was but a sense of tone that he could tell what he was say but the words were incoherent, sad and calming. The blade slipped from his fingertips, his sight cast down watching it drifted from his clasp, metal sliding across flesh and slowly drop to the floor. The sharp pang echoed as it bounced on the floor teetering a moment before rocking against the metal to a standstill. Gently the Chiefs hands tried to wrestling him to the ground ushering him to his knees, he was doing his job, no matter what Butch was to him he had to deal with him, and it would take more than throwing him in the cells or the Potomac. He couldn't put that upon him, he couldn't do that to himself, watch as he dealt out his punishment. What would it be, exile, a sentence in the cells, death? Could Harkness do that too him? It was his job after all Butch knew that that came first but would he be able to go as far as taking him down. No, he couldn't die knowing that it was him that had to do it, so he resisted, violently bucking against the restraints desperate to flee the mess that was before him and that clearly was going to await him. Clawing at the Pip-boy he felt the trigger release, the contraption hurtling to the floor as he reached up, tugging at the zipper the grating sound that usually held so much promise now meant only one thing. Escape. He slipped from the jacket like a snake darting through the grass, smooth and quick, out of the Chiefs clutches.

He'd never run so fast, tearing through the corridors, crashing into the walls at every turn, throwing residents and debris out of the way, determination the only thing on his mind. The thudding of feet and demands of return followed close behind him. No, he couldn't go back there, he wasn't going to stay to see all their faces. He could imagine it, the look of horror in Maria's eye, the disappointment on Harkness's brow he didn't need to see it. He didn't want too.

Finally the bridge door came to view, how many where following him now he didn't know but he wasn't willing to find out. When he pushed through he slammed the door shut locking it behind him and calling the bridge. He fell back against it waiting for it to swig round, the pounding of fists and the calls of his name where ignored. He couldn't go back; he couldn't face what he had done. Sure he had killed before but Ted was innocent, just a kid with a bad chem habit. He'd done nothing wrong apart from be the unlucky one, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The bridge connected but his body didn't move. Something held him back, keeping him from crossing. That voice pleading him to come back a mixture of the Chief and Harkness all rolled into one tone. He went to run his hands up through his hair, but paused as the deep red that drowned them caught his eyes. He couldn't go back, not now. Turning he placed a hand on the door leaving a crimson imprint behind, listening to the sound of his voice one last time before darting across the bridge.


	2. Chapter 2

He'd left everything behind; nothing that defined him as Butch was on his person anymore. Toothpick, his Jacket all left in the Rudder, it was almost as if he'd subconsciously tried to leave that part of him behind. But they were only trinkets, things that people related to him, if you saw the twirl of metal spinning elegantly round knuckles or the dancing of a snake on the back of a lean form, you knew instantly who was on the end. It was a trademark, but Butch had let that define him it was all he knew. Even when the vault went down and all that was left of the gang was him alone, he still held up his head and said that the tunnel snakes ruled, because part of him didn't want that to die. Failure for Butch was not an option, deep down he could have this gut retching feeling that everything was falling apart and he would still grasp at it with his fingertips, holding on for dear life even if it wasn't worth holding on to.

There was no plan, everything happened so suddenly that he didn't have time to think. He held few caps on him and with his quick escape he had not a single supply on him. Every corner was checked thoroughly, if beasts were encountered he had nothing but his bare hands to defend himself. Usually he would relish the idea of trekking into the wastes, nothing but the beasts and his fists. Now he wished to walk and that's what he did. A blank mind and the open road was the only thing he wished for now, he had the road but his mind had other ideas. The memories of Ted's body strewn upon the floor was engraved deeply on the fore front of his thoughts, nothing would stop him constantly reliving the memory of watching the life ebb away from the kid, all done by his hand.

That wasn't the only person on his mind. Maria his best friend, what the hell would she think of him now? Their relationship had already been dragged through hell and back, and yet it was still strong when they came out the other side. There was nothing that they couldn't handle, it would waver and fall apart at the seams, but eventually they would thread it all back together again and start over, the bond tightening with each encounter. And Harkness, a relationship so screwed up that somehow in a strange way it worked. The Chief and the trouble maker. He was certainly was that now, but this wasn't a situation where he could just throw him the Potomac and have done with it. Or lock him in a cell and interrogate him. People wouldn't have stood for it, they would have wanted blood, a life for a life and he wasn't going to stand there and put that decision on him, because he knew deep down that Harkness couldn't have done it. Butch wasn't going to be responsible for him losing his job and killing someone. The familiar feeling pulled at his chest, the thought of never seeing him tore into his very being but he knew it was for the best that this way both of them knew that other was out there somewhere, safe.

It was days before he even stopped walking, his mouth so dry that it felt like he was swallowing a mouth full of grit. Sweat dripped from his brow furiously and his whole shirt soaked through as the blazing sun beat down upon him. But it hadn't stopped him wandering, his own form of punishment, putting himself through this ordeal just in hope of feeling better. But it was never going to be that easy, what could he possibly go through that would make any of this better? Nothing, it wouldn't change what happened, it wouldn't bring back the kids life that he had so cruelly taken from him without any reason other than to release his own demons.

Scanning his surroundings he surveyed the barren lands that cast out before him. It wasn't totally unfamiliar to him, across the way was the old highway juttering against the horizon, broken and cracked apart. He could still see the outskirts of the Capital his stomach lurching at the thought of what was held with the ruined buildings, residents of the city still trying to get over the loss he had caused. Turning away that was the last time he looked at the Capital, he needed to distance himself. He was running now. But now he knew where too, as he spun there in front of him was the entrance to Big Town. A place where he knew he could start over, blend in to the crowd.


	3. Chapter 3

The town had grown considerably since he had last been here; sure it had, how long was it since they had sorted out the mutant problem? Seven, eight years perhaps? A long fucking time ago, shit the faces that rushed toward him where not the same ones that had been near beaten by the wastes all those years ago. Had it really been that long? They were… older, adults, grownups, the odd resident he didn't recognise pondered about, casting him curious glances wanting to know who this stranger was that the others acknowledged with such gusto. Each one of them greeted him in turn demanding to know why he hadn't been to see them sooner, asking what he had been doing for the past few years and what he was doing here. That was the difficult question and one he couldn't answer truthfully. Really, this was the only place where he felt some form of connection, these guys where just like him lost in a place where that was the worst thing to be, yet somehow they battled on. People twice there age and experience hadn't been through half of what they had and yet here they were, still standing and fighting, at least now they felt they had something to fight for.

The moral of the residents was significantly higher than before, the metal sheets that guarded the city where stronger, built high and stood firm. The whirring of the bots and there eerie warning voices could be heard well before you saw the town, if anyone was clever enough they would stay well away.

Should he really be bring his problems to the Town, hadn't they been through enough without him dealing out more shit for them. But he was sure that they wouldn't follow him, Harkness would never leave the city he knew that. He wouldn't come looking for him he would do his job. Maria, she might do although if she really thought about it she would know that he needed the time, that he couldn't go back. They'd be fine without him; he wasn't the glue that held them together, no that was Maria. He wasn't the protector, the one that made sure they stayed out of trouble that was Harkness's job. Truthfully he never figured out why the hell they put up with him. Well they didn't need too anymore.

"So Butch, what brings you here?" There it was again that question, what was he doing here? Hiding? Running? Both? He plastered on the fake grin which didn't reach his eyes but they were fooled easily, of course they were how long had he been pulling that trick for. Telling everyone he was fine, telling himself that he was fine when truthfully he wasn't at all, when in fact the amount of times he had been broken and pieced back together had taken their toll. Now he was internally destroyed, all the years of pent up anger and bottling up feelings and emotions had resulted in the situation he now found himself in now and fixing it wasn't going to be as easy as it had been before. The shards laid strewn within his being waiting to slowly form back to what they once were. However, whether he wanted to build back his old self was one of the reasons he was here, the answer he wanted to find. The two people that wouldn't have been tricked by the false nature weren't here, at least he could wear the mask for a little while longer, and this place was somewhere he could hide physically and mentally.

"Lookin' at a change of scenery, thought I'd stay with you guys for a bit." The rise of agreement erupted around him. At least here he could start again, if that's what he truly wanted to do, how long could he stand being away from those that he – no, he couldn't think about it like that, he would have to play the cards he was dealt with, there was no cheating now.

"How long for Butch are you going to be with us for a long time or just a few weeks or you staying forever?" A soft chuckle escaped his lips as Sticky rambled off every single thought that popped to his head.

"It'll be for a while I think, I dunno yet. Let's just play it by ear shall we?"

By the time dusk had approached he'd manage to clean himself up and they were all too willingly to let him stay under the condition that he taught them some of the stuff he'd learnt while out in the wastes. The thought had amused him, because had he really learnt anything since leaving the vault? These past few days had been an eye opener for him, but in the last few years? Had he really adjusted to life outside the vault? Sure physically he was more capable, he could take down most with his fists alone and he could fire his pistol with around 83% accuracy. Stop, he didn't have Harkness working out his vitals and his watching his accuracy anymore. He didn't have Maria to get drunk with, someone he could lose himself with and forget every bad thought he'd ever had. Now, he was alone and he had to deal with it, he had made his bed and now he was laying in it, however lonely and cold it was.

"Dusty, how's it goin' man? Still fuckin' sleepin' on the job?" Sniggering he slumped down next to him looking out across the wastes that sprawled out before him. Empty, it was so much more peaceful than before it was nice to see that the residents had been given a break from all the shit they'd been through. Dusty shifted his weight as Butch sat next to him, shoving up his visor and rubbing his eyes, a lazy smile spread on his face.

"Not much going on round here, might as well catch up on some beauty sleep." Butch nodded with a small glimmer of amusement, his eyes still trained on the horizon watching the sun slowly set against the ground casting an orange haze throughout the sky. A light tap hit his arm, "Be good to have you around Butch."

Snorting, he dropped his sight, scuffing his toe against the ground, watching as the dirt caused small clouds of dust to form round the boot. Holding them a moment before letting them return to view before him, "I don't know about that Dusty." He could almost hear the boys frown, but he wasn't going to elaborate on the subject that wasn't what he was here for, at the moment or in general. Kicking his boots up against the sand bags he rummaged in his pocket pulling out a slightly battered and torn photo. Three bodies where set in the picture, one of them his own the other two the only people that he knew cared for him. He didn't even look at it as he handed it over to Dusty.

"This is important man so fuckin' listen up, I mean it. You see those two in the photo?" He tapped the photograph without even looking; he couldn't bear to see their faces. Even though he knew it would help him remember happier times, it would also remind him of what he'd left behind.

"Yeah Butch I see em, that's Maria ain't it?" Automatically his eyes closed at the name, trying to block the thought of her from his mind, he was already plagued with his own demons he didn't need to see them in his nightmares as well; he already knew what they would think of him. Swallowing the heavy lump that set in his throat he coughed in an attempt to shift it but the wave still hung in his tone, "Y…yeah that's Ma… her, the other one is called…" It took him sometime to compose himself, willing himself to say the name to let the words form at the back of his throat, "…Harkness. They're friends of mine." This time he let his gaze fall to the boy, it was stern and demanding, "If either of them come here, you tell me so I can hide and you tell them nothin', got me? I'm not here, I never came here an' you haven't seen me since we helped you the last time, alright?" He raised his brow at him, warning, he wasn't messing about he truly meant what he said. He didn't want to be saying it, but it was for their own good and his.

"Yeah, sure Butch whatever you say. I don't get something though."

"What's that?"

"If they're yours friends why don't you want to see them?"

The thought tugged at him, it was worse than any other time he'd felt it before, it wouldn't let go it demanded him to suffer it, made him writhe internally at the pain. Inhaling deeply, he turned to face the question; how he wished he _could_ see them. To feel Harkness's lips brush against his, his hands curling in his hair, Maria's lilting laughter bouncing off the metal in the Rudder but neither of those he could have because that was his punishment, a life for a life. He gave up his life because he'd taken another that was how it worked. Maria and Harkness where his life and now he would have to live knowing that he would never see them again, a life of hurt for a taken life, it wasn't much but it would have to do.

"It's complicated just… fuckin' do it?"

"Don't they want to see you though Butch I me-"He slammed his hand on his shoulder causing the kid to jump under the grasp.

"Just… fuckin' do it…" Slowly he released the grip as he rose from the seat only taking a few steps before stopping to look back over his shoulder, "…You can keep the photo."


	4. Chapter 4

"Fuckin' hell Shorty, come on!" Butch tilted his head letting his muscles stretch out the stiffness, rolling his shoulders he cracked his knuckles which were strapped with boxing tape. Once again Shorty was sprawled out on the ground, his body covered in dust a flare in his eyes that reflected Butch's own. However, Shorty, much like Butch had a fiery temper which he let cloud his judgement, Butch could easily pick out his weakness. A left haymaker dropped slightly letting him grab it unexpectedly, jabbing him in the ribs. A foot out of place that Butch could clip with the toe of his boot sending him crashing to the ground.

Shorty leapt from the ground patting down the dust a moment before holding his fists back up. Flexing his fingers Butch rose his own prancing from foot to foot, gaining a sense of balance and finding his centre so his body was rooted; he knew that when he dodged he would stay firmly on his feet. It didn't take long for Shorty to pounce at him swinging another haymaker and Butch easily grabbed it twisting underneath it till it curled painfully up his back. Placing a boot in the small of his back he kicked him back to the ground. There was no thought in Shorty's move, he just let that anger take him, unfortunately it didn't work like that, and the anger would always lead him in the wrong direction.

Butch knew that all too well, now he had tuned it, using it to his advantage. He channelled it to something more productive and he was getting stronger, mentally and physically. He was still relentlessly plagued with nightmares of Ted's broken body; it constantly appeared in his dreams mocking and taunting him to relive what he had done. Every part was so vivid and real; the metallic smell of blood thickly swam around him, the feel of Toothpick in his grasp the patter of liquid dripping off the tip and hitting the ground. Raspy breathes ebbing away slowly, each one clutching at the last bit of life, threatening to be his last one, till eventually the last echo shuddered to a halt.

"Shorty, ya gonna have to calm the fuck down." Figures, why didn't he listen to those words when they were being said to him such a long time ago such a small phrase but it held a much bigger promise because rage was a demon and it would take hold. "Get up," He pulled the kid from the floor, seeing that all too familiar swirl of fury and frustration that Butch had seen in his own blue ones. He placed his hands on his shoulders and looked him calmly in the eye, "Dude, seriously it'll be the fuckin' death of ya if ya don't calm down, trust me. Now listen up, take a deep breath an' close ya eyes an' any anger battlin' around inside push it out, fuckin' get rid of it cause it ain't helpin'" He leant back against the nearest house and folded his arms, watching as Shorty's puzzled frown slowly softened the features on his face relaxed and his body seemed to lose the rigidness that had struck at every limp. "Ready?" He nodded and they both stepped forward. Everything changed, his movement where fluid and gracefully, he jabbed at Butch lunging when there was an opening and he slowly picked up on Butch's weakness, till eventually he found himself on the floor Shorty index and middle finger pointed at him mocking a gun. A wide smile formed on Butch lips meeting Shorty's own beaming grin, a swell formed in his chest just like he'd felt when he used to all this with James back in Rivet City. As he was pulled up he patted his shoulder dropping him a wink and a 'well done'.

"Right Bittercup ya up next." He clapped him hands together dancing on the spot again; he mopped the sweat from his brow as he watched Bittercup glide across to him and smug smile on her face. Another one that was just like him, she would soon release that her cockiness would be her downfall.

"Hey, ya can't beat up girl I mean that's wrong, ya don't hurt girls." Sticky's voice wavered as he rambled through the words, almost a small amount of panic within the tone. Straightening up a sharp frown crossed Butch's brow, really these kids thought that? They really had no idea did they?

"Ya think the fuckers out there care whether she's a girl or not. There are plenty of girl's out there that are willing to cut ya open and watch ya guts spill on the fuckin' ground just so they can loot ya dead corpse an' get there next fix! No one an' I mean no one gives a shit whether she's a girl or not, so ya better all get that into ya fuckin' heads now or ya might as well just let those fuckers in without even puttin' up a fight." Staring them all down as they looked on in horror, he didn't know whether it was his words or the outburst which flooded out of him but never the less they were paying attention now.

"Right Bittercup, fuckin' come at me."

"Go on Dust get some sleep." He placed a firm hand on his shoulder coaxing him away from his post.

"Butch you've been doing the night shift for the past two weeks and teaching during the day, do you not want to sleep?" A short snort expelled from his nose as he turned his mouth curling at one side. Lack of sleep didn't bother him; he wasn't one to sleep much anyway, he found the night peaceful even if it did bring back old memories, ones that he wished to be real but weren't. Maybe that's why he did it, so for a moment he could feel like he was back there with them.

"No rest for the wicked man." An element of truth rung in them, he never understood the words before now. Now they were like a code for him something that he almost lived by now, he wasn't burning himself out, that wouldn't help these kids but he was making sure he made up for all the shit that he could have done and didn't do.

_"You can't keep this up Deloria."_ The voice that filled his head wasn't Dusty's, his presence had gone a while ago. He found himself staring out into the horizon, the sky sparkling against the sheet of darkness that held no horror for him anymore.

"I know." He croaked, the glimpse of the vision appear next to him folding his arms casting his own gaze to where Butch's laid. He couldn't look, he told himself this was his punishment that he could never see them again, but they seemed to haunt his thoughts, appearing whenever he was alone.

_"Dumb-dumb?"_ He trained his sight forward; he didn't want to hear them they where nothing but old shadows from a past that he couldn't return too and if they haunted him till his very last breathe than that was how it would be. They would have to remain just that, visions they could never be real again.

_"I thought snakes didn't run?"_ A stinging sensation gripped him swelling at the tops of his cheeks, a lump rose to his mouth that he forced back into his stomach. He wasn't his protector anymore; there was no saving him from this.

"They don't…"

_"So what's all this then dumb-dumb? Huh? It looks like running to me honey."_ He didn't need this, they could scream at him hate on him with harsh words tell him that everything he'd done in his entire life was a complete fuck up, that he was worthless and that they were glad he was gone. But every time they spoke only reasoning and soft words escaped their lips.

"This ain't runnin' it's….learnin'"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Butch, you're going to have to slow down, you're only human."

The words hit him like a ton of bricks, actually he would have preferred the impact of something physical, but it seemed that every time he began to move on something came hurtling towards him reminding him just why he was here. Those words were more personal, ones he had said before to only one person and only they would know why they caused him to retract at them. How long ago was it since that moment? Years, time had flown since he had left the vault and now look where he was. It wasn't what he'd hoped for then nothing that had happened was what he'd thought would have been waiting for him when finally got out of the vault. Getting kidnapping twice, taking on the government, all the adventures, finding himself befriending an Android, if you could call it that. It didn't matter what he called it there was nothing to name anymore, there couldn't be. It was better this way, he was alive, he wasn't Harkness's problem anymore. He would not have to go through the ordeal of taking him in, locking him away, watching on knowing he could never be released. If they would have done that, more likely that they would have had him killed and Harkness would've had to do it. He hoped that he understood it wasn't that he was scared of dying Butch didn't fear death, it had stared him in the face far too many times and now it never startled him, but what he didn't want was see the look on Harkness's face as he was told that he was the one that had to put him down. But it didn't matter if he understood or not this was the way it was, it was the way it was going to be. But the tug and pull that churned in his chest, tore at every fiber of his body, gripping at every possible attachment to his heart, demanding a piece, claim its prize. But he had nothing to give, Butch had never understood any emotion or feeling like… that.

"You zoned out again."

"Huh?"

"Butch…" Red straightened up, pausing from mopping the fresh cut upon his brow and lip, giving him a stern look one that he knew all too well.

"Don't fuckin' give me that look." As she started to dab at the wounds again he swatted her away, shoving himself up he grabbed his shirt.

"No, you need to stop this, whatever this is," She wildly gestured at him as he pulled his shirt on. His eyes darkened as he looked on at her a moment, he didn't realize that he had stopped in his tracks. Shaking it off he continued what he was doing.

"Don't know what the fuck ya on 'bout Red." Standing, a firm hand on his shoulder forced him to sit once again, it remained there making sure he stayed put. It wasn't as if he couldn't push it away but the interrogation would only continue another time and truthfully he wasn't sure what she was on about.

"You know what I'm talking about Butch. How long have you been here for now?"

_6 months, 2 weeks and 4 days_

He knew, that voice didn't need to remain him constantly. Butch kept track he knew how long it had been.

"6 months, 2 weeks an-" No, this was ridiculous he didn't do organized, Butch didn't keep track he was unpredictable worked on spur of the moment everything was random. Nor did he help others for the sake of it, for nothing in return. It wasn't for any sort of gain it was just because he wanted to forget. That was all he wanted, to forget everything the vault, the rebellion, Rivet City, Maria, Harkness… everything. Because that would mean that he wasn't here in this situation and they weren't there. If none of it had happened he would still be the person he pretended to be, the mask, the bully, the trouble maker. Right now, he wasn't being Butch. That was a broken promise.

"Yes, just over 6 months, since you got here you've done nearly every night shift, if there's a big patrol you go with them and 9 times out 10 you come back with an injury because you've stupidly thrown yourself in harms way. I hardly see you sleep and when you do it's because you can't physically stand anymore, I mean what are you trying to prove? Getting yourself killed won't do you any good!"

"I know!" They both stared, both sizing up the other. Red knew she had hit a nerve, the fuse was lit and a flicker of the old Butch flared in his eyes. He could feel it, that bubbling sensation that simmered in the pit of his gut, hissing and spitting threatening to unleash itself from it cage. Each time he was aggravated or pushed the wrong way it would rise, till eventually it exploded. This was what had put him where he was now and if he wanted to move on he had to learn to control the demon that roared within him.

After a small moment her lips formed into an O nodding she backed off.

"I get it, do you think if you dig deep enough, you'll find what you're looking for Butch?"

No, he didn't he had found it already but he had to leave all that behind. The glare that he was shooting her down with softened to a puzzled frown, it was obvious why she was a doctor it was rare out here to find ones that could look into your eyes and see right into your soul. There was one other he'd met that could do the same and that was Maria's Dad. The day he'd given him that box he just knew, he didn't say anything and neither did Butch, they didn't have too because there was a small silent understanding between them and that was all he needed to know exactly what Butch lacked. He wished he had that box now, but once again it was punishment for what he had done.

"I don't know I thi-" Before he could continue Dusty burst through the door, panic stricken he panted, pointing frantically at the entrance of Big Town.

"Supermutants!"

"Fuck, how many?"

"5, maybe 6 I don't know." He instantly shot up from the bed, heading out of the door Dusty at his heal. All the kids had gathered in the center of the town, they had had enough training to take them on but it wasn't that simple. Fair enough you could battle each other for years and become the best but put under pressure and a faced with a different enemy was completely different, nerves effected your abilities it could either make them better or a hell of a lot worse.

"Red standby there maybe some casualties," He hoped to god it was nothing serious, but it would be worse lying to them all, "Right fuckin' listen up, me and Shorty are gonna go up front, Pappy and Dusty you take longer range try an' get as many of those fuckers down as ya can from a far, mainly the ones with guns, the rest ya gonna proved cover fire for me and Shorty to get in close, then we can take care of them from there. Go, get into position." He watched as they all sprinted to there posts, he never thought he's see the day were he would be properly leading, were people looked up to him because he was the best they had.

"Right Shorty," There was a small amount of fear in his eyes, now was not the time for that he needed him at his best. "Ya ready to put all that anger to use?"


End file.
